


Blue

by Snickerdickles



Series: Mama's Diamonds [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Condoms, Emotional Baggage, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, How Do I Tag, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, One Night Stands, Overthinking, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickerdickles/pseuds/Snickerdickles
Summary: Alternatively, "You Make Me Feel"Keith is kind of numb, but he knows he likes sex. Lance has had some real shit experiences. Keith petitions a hookup and gets a surprising "yes".





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I consider myself to have a very distinct smut style, but its been a while. I like metaphors and similes.

Blue  
-Keith Kogane-  
Sex was like 20 minutes of peace. 20 minutes to sit back and enjoy himself. 20 seconds to exist on another, blissed out plane of existence. A get-away, even for just a little bit. The planet earth was a non-sentient being that held home for trillions of other beings like himself. Beings with feelings, personalities, lives, souls, and families. Humans, people. People who had desires and secrets and hatreds.  
But, if it wasn’t him, it wasn’t his problem. Simple. In his head, only he existed. And in those 20 minutes, it wasn’t even that. He didn’t exist. A thrilling mix of anxiety, pleasure, and relaxation took the place of any and all thought he may have had.  
But he was not a bad person. He didn’t want to hurt people, so he picked his partners carefully. People he did not know and he would never see again. People whose souls he could ignore. And after the night had ended, he would leave, go back to his own home, shower, and find someone for next time. No harm done, not a negative thought in his mind.  
So clearly, this was a big thing. Not usually did he find someone truly attractive though, attractive enough to pursue. To propose such an arrangement, especially one he quite frankly didn’t expect Lance to accept.  
But before that, he had to recall each and every hand that had traced his torso and gotten him off. Each body he had used for his pleasure and each moan he had allowed to fall from his lips and each grunt he had heard. He had to recall everyone and remember that they meant nothing. Not a goddamn thing was anything above meaningless anymore.  
There was safety in ignorance and bliss in forgetfulness. What they didn't know didn't hurt them and what he didn't know didn't hurt him. Safety. Peace. Orgasms. All one in the same, really. So why not take advantage of all three?  
He was safe. He could defend himself against people. If they wanted to try him, he could have you on the wall, gasping for breath with his blade pressed up their jugular before they could manage to get their dick out. It was all trust. He trusted them, but was quick to revoke it.  
···  
From the very beginning, the relationship between them was different. Because a relationship of hate was closer than that of unknowing. Hate that excited him and shook him to his core and felt indescribably exhilarating. Looking at Lance walking towards him and not being all that sure whether he was going to beat the shit out of him or fuck him harder than he could possibly fathom or maybe both, that was a feeling. A real feeling, not an emotion. An emotion was felt in your mind, a feeling was in your body, but not your heart. This was new. And new was interesting, interesting was good, and good should be sought after.  
So despite it being a simple question, it required preparation. He needed the perfect moment where no one would over hear. A good environment to make him feel comfortable, make sure Lance knew he could refuse and it would never be spoken of again. A safe place. And rather than beat around the bush and be a little bitch about it, he would ask,straight forward and outright.  
“Do you want to have sex with me? Yes or no first,then work out the details if you say yes. If you say no, this conversation stays here and is never heard of again.“ Keith said, in a clear and confident voice. Lance looked a bit surprised, but he appeared to be taking the idea into serious consideration. He looked back at Keith and nodded.  
“I have condoms and a fairly vast array of lubricants. Do you have an ideal time?“ Keith continued.  
“Not particularly, but I’d like a few days to mentally prep myself for this. Do you intend to top or bottom?“ Lance asked. Keith kind of shrugged in response. He didn't care. “Well then, I’d actually prefer to have you fuck me, if you don't mind.“ Lance looked kind of awkward as he rubbed at the back of his neck and averted his eyes. He looked nice. Keith wondered how he would look absolutely wrecked.  
What an odd thought. He had never wondered such a thing about the random partners he found on apps or in clubs. Maybe it had something to do with knowing him better, or the physical attraction he felt towards him as oppose to the mental desire for sex he was used to. He wasn't used to anything he felt towards Lance, it was all new. Brand fucking new, and it was kind of a scary feeling. But feelings and sex were not one in the same, they were not related, never had been and they weren't going to start now. This was not going to be a first. 

-Lance Espinosa-  
He was told God didn't like premarital sex, and he sure as hell didn't like gays. But gay premarital sex? Lord help him, that sounded like a bad idea. Good thing it wasn't his idea or the first time. Well, that and he didn't even believe in a god. Space changed things. So why not? It was thrilling and exciting and kind of arousing in a way that was completely new and foreign to him. Maybe he would discover something new, a new kink, a new passion, a new hatred. Something, anything, that could elicit some emotional response that wasn’t subdued or entirely numb.  
He had never been one to find people especially attractive, and the main reason he flirted was for fun. It’s fun to see people react. Despite his habits, he respected people’s bodies, at least. He would never touch anyone who didn’t explicitly consent while sober and informed.  
So in that way, Lance supposed, Keith was special. He was pretty. Pretty fucking dumb. And rude. And hot. Special.  
Really though, he was goddamn gorgeous. He was pale, but he had subtle freckles and scars that had stories, tales untold by the only voice that knew them. Memories that Lance longed to hear and imagine. His eyes held secrets, real ones. That deep, dark shit. His lips were a dusky pink color and he had a terribly feminine cupid’s bow that only proved to show how plump and soft they looked. Even his nose, for fucks sake! Who the hell could have a nice enough nose to make someone question whether or not they were sexually attracted to noses? His voice, it was like tar. Thick with meaning and clear articulation of his words, dark as if it was holding something over your head. It was mature, not like a grandfather, but like a child who had seen too much and knew things he needn’t know at such an age. Deep and contemplative. Steady, even when he was yelling and screaming, his voice never faltered or cracked, as though he was 100% confident and sure of his words and what they meant, both to him and to the person who had to take it all.  
But Lance was… boring. He had what none of his tías liked: dark skin. Dark, with hair not much deeper than that. Unruly hair that he cut particularly short out of sheer frustration with the time it took to manage and the comments he got from nasty ass people who felt their unwelcome opinion mattered enough for them to voice it. God knows how he got his eyes. He had to admit, he had kind of nice lashes, but his eyes make people think he was blind. They were so light a shade of icy grey-blue that they almost matched his sclerae, with his pupils standing out like a stab wound in the middle of the most noticeable thing on his face. Oh God, he knew he had the nose of his heritage, but all that really meant to him was a shit profile. Bulbous and protruding.  
But for some unknown, wild reason, Keith seemed to like it. Well, maybe. Maybe he just liked his ass or found him to be weak enough to accept his offer or even plain enough to recognize that he wouldn't get a date from a model or any other ordinary person. No one could possibly want to fuck him. Ever. So this was his chance. The Lord pitied his poor soul and gifted him an opportunity, and by God he was going to take it.

-Keith Kogane-  
Hands wandered and fingertips grazed whatever flesh they could, no matter what it was. Soft chests and scarred fingers and broken minds melded in a new experience of wild and ridiculously awkward sex. Keith, for the first time in a long time, wasn't laying back on the bed and letting his partner do all the work. He was actively trying to please Lance. He focused on bobbing his head, using his lips to block his teeth from painfully scratching skin and not gagging all at the same time. He wasn't exactly great with his tongue, but he would work up to it. Practice took time. Lance seemed to be enjoying himself though, he was holding his shirt up with one hand and leaning on his other forearm. His eyes were screwed shut and he looked like he was grinding his teeth to avoid any noise that may have otherwise presented itself aloud, though the occasional grunt did fall from his lips, and that was a godly bit of encouragement and praise for Keith, the inexperienced little fucker that he was. (In the particular realm of giving, that is). Every vague sound he made and breathy exhale or inhale that was even a bit audible may as well have been Lance looking him in the eye, telling him he was a talented badass who could hold his own on the battlefield and in the bedroom and simultaneously dropping to his knees to suck him off. It was odd that non-coherent words could feel so nice. But, Keith was a dude, and he could get the feeling that he knew about how close Lance was getting based purely on his sounds and also how ridiculously salty his mouth was beginning to taste. Quite frankly, it was disgusting and it tasted like someone had poured salt directly into his mouth until it flooded his sinuses, and at this point, Keith just wanted him to get off so he could get fucked, literally.  
So when that time came, boy did he go buck-fucking-wild. He was a hot mess and slut for whatever the help he could get inside him. Lance felt like Jesus Christ himself was fucking him with all the grace of a worm on the cement that you just touched and all the strength and power of a bull. Not to forget the actual sex appeal of a fucking pornstar. We're talking Kameron Michaels out of drag, this boy was like a god. He clearly only vaguely knew what he was doing, but beginners luck could take the place of skill any day if this was the result. He did, admittedly, feel a bit stupid rocking back and forth and pushing his face into the bed at the same rate you would perform CPR. Which is pretty fast when it's a dick in your ass, mind you. But if he just closed his eyes like he always did and pretend he wasn't there, that he just felt good and nothing else was real. But, for some-odd fucking reason, he didn't want to. He wanted to remain totally conscious of the situation and his surroundings, he wanted to hear and see and smell and feel everything. Maybe it was because Lance wasn't every other guy, he wasn't just some fuckboy he came across in the latest interplanetary gay bar. He was the first person he connected with beforehand. He was the first person who truly felt and seemed like he had a soul. A soul and also heartbeat that gave life and sentience to sex, he wasn't just a dildo. He was a human being.  
Maybe this was what making love was like, or at the very least, he knew this was closer to it.  
By the time Lance finished into the condom, Keith felt absolutely dead. Emotionally and physically. Maybe mentally as well, he had done a lot of thinking. Almost immediately after the whole ordeal, he wanted a shower and a nap. But mostly a nap, and also a bath. And a snack. And some water. He pulled himself of the bed and walked over to the bathroom to turn on the water and stepped into the shower. He didn't wait for it to heat up, he just got in. The water felt like it was holy, like it washed away sins and sins alone. And it left behind what had just happened. It was like a river, whitewater rushing over his back and curving directions where his muscles protruded and his back arched. He heard footsteps behind him but didn't move or look up, he didn't quite have the energy. He saw Lance's hand move the shower nozzle and felt the water begin to heat up. He felt a warm kiss on his shoulder and it made him feel tingly all over. It wasn't arousing, it felt soft and loving and just warm. Like a fireplace and heavy blankets and cocoa so warm you burn your tongue on it as it snowed and rained outside. Like the fire crackling on his skin, over his entire shoulder. But it didn't burn, it wasn't fire. It was Lance.  
He heard the swooshing sound of his towel being pulled off the rack and the now-wet padding footsteps get quieter. He took his last towel.  
What a dick.


End file.
